


It's time to bone, with dubious morals...Kylo RenxReader

by howTHEFUCKdoyouspellrefigerator



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Misuse of the Force (Star Wars), Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howTHEFUCKdoyouspellrefigerator/pseuds/howTHEFUCKdoyouspellrefigerator
Summary: HUGE DUB CON TW!! There are principles that guide the dark side of the force, principles of power, of control, of passion. Exerting your power, exulting in your passion...who says strengthening the connection to the force has to be dull? Kylo Ren is a big believer of...unique force training methods, as all of the lower-ranks of StarKiller Base well know. (I tried to make it ambiguous but it might slant more female reader sorry) Requests always appreciated
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Kylo Ren & Reader, Kylo Ren & You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	It's time to bone, with dubious morals...Kylo RenxReader

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even that into Kylo Ren as a character (sorry plz don't kill me) but like....I like toxic characters in general....so here I am, once again processing my own SA/rape history through writing non-con 😌 Also this is literally the second sex scene I've written in my life so advice is much appreciated  
> ALSO I THINK I TOOK TOO LONG TO GET TO THE ACTION IM SORRY

Code this, code that, do this menial task, clean up this error. Nu was such an obnoxiously demanding boss. Even Davis, that idiot, at least knew how to ask for things nicely. I had never been happier to see the clock switch to 17:00. Starkiller Base didn't get many points for atmosphere, but I kind of enjoyed my trek from the computing banks on upper level two to my accommodations several floors below. After three months stationed here, I'd gotten used to the same landmarks I saw every day, twice a day. Plain grey walls, spick-and-span floors, equally clean uniforms beneath the blank faces of the people marching past me. Even with the thousands and thousands of Imperial troopers, scientists, officers, pilots, stewards, techs, and medics aboard, I'd started to notice a few of the same faces along my daily commute.

After I'd ascended two floors up, I spotted the same Asian man I saw everyday, walking past me at the same time. He must have just gotten off duty at central command, the poor bastard. It was a cushy, well-paying job nine days out of ten, but when a higher-up from the Empire came to visit the base, well, no one even liked to pass through this level. I unconsciously sped up, thinking with a shudder of the Sith Lord — or whatever you call them — that had been here for the past couple of days. I wasn't the only one on base who wasn't thrilled about our most recent houseguest; my commute was much less crowded, now, since everyone who had the option of rerouting themselves through a different area did so. Unfortunately, I wasn't afforded that luxury. There was only one really direct way from my station to my accommodations, and I'd rather hear chaos and shouting from the main control room than tack another half hour onto my already-long day at work.

I passed the cavernous opening that led into main command, catching a glimpse of the stars visible through the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows. Yeah, being stationed there definitely had its perks, but probably not enough to make up for having to cater to some spoiled little prick with anger issues. This evening, it was absolutely silent. I breezed cheerfully past the massive entryway, but halfway across the silence started to bug me. Why the hell was it silent? Intercom noises, radioed commands, even shouting, should have been echoing in the room. The 17:00 shift had just ended, and their night-shift counterparts should be already settled there, making just as much noise. I could feel my head revolving, slowly, absolutely against my will. It was like how passing spaceships slow down to look at a crash — some deep-seated, human morbid fascination to look at disaster. 

And a disaster it was. My crawling pace stopped entirely and I stood transfixed, staring at the inside of the massive command center. Completely barren except for smoldering gashes in the walls, in a breach of every bit of protocol and common sense that every empire soldier knew. What the hell? There should have been dozens of people here, ready to sit down to a night's work, ensuring that the base was always attended.  


"I sent them away." On instinct, I flinched, back towards the safety of the hallway, now as ominously silent as the central command room. All of my fellow commuters had vanished at the hint of Kylo Ren. And Kylo Ren it must be. The figure stepped out from the shadow of a monitor panel, black fabric moving. Everything was so silent that I could almost hear that fabric moving. When he spoke again, it was like a thundercrack, and I nearly flinched again.  


"Come here." I didn't even realize that I'd failed to obey until I *felt* something grab me, tight around my neck, and heard the command again. "Come. HERE."

The invisible vice on my throat tightened, and my eyes went wide as I was dragged stumbling forward into the cavernous space. Behind me, there was the slow, gentle hydraulic hiss of the massive door being lowered behind me. _By the fucking stars._ I feel suddenly claustrophobic, even though he hadn't moved from the other side of the space, where he stood silhouetted against the dark sky. 

"Being on this insufferable pit of a base has dulled my nerves. All I do is manage your idiotic commanding officers, who are so hapless as to leave me with no time to attune to the force." Am I supposed to respond? What is happening here? "And then here you come, a willing victim, lingering in the doorway, on the one evening that I have commanded that the technicians leave me. It's almost enough to make me believe in fate." I feel the phantom touch, brushing along my collarbone, resting on my shoulder like a fatherly hand. I watch as he strips off a black glove and lays it carefully on a nearby council. 

"Not very vocal, are you? I'm certain that will change." He beckons me closer, a two-finger come-hither gesture. I obey, for lack of recourse. I'm standing close to him now, an arms-length away from the glass that I've wistfully looked through to see the distant stars outside. I would be thrilled, but I can't ignore the presence of the man beside me, smelling faintly of engine grease, but mostly like the cold. I can almost ignore him, pretending that the black-clad body of a warrior sanding by my side is only a shadow. The phantom touch brushes my hair aside from my neck. I open my mouth in soundless shock as he touches it. Him, not the ghostly whisper of the force, but him, running a long, pale finger down the back of my neck, along the mounds of my vertebrae. He's as frigid as I had imagined, and every inch of my skin is on high alert.

Ren circles in front of me, grasping my chin in his other, still-gloved hand. He turns my face from side to side, examining me closely. My eyes follow him, even as he turns my face to the side. Before I know it, he's leaning in — he's touching my neck — he bites my neck, and for the first time, I make a sound, a cry of shock. He laughs, deep. "Not so quiet, then. You'll be fun." His arm circles around me, resting lightly on my ass. I suck in a scared, shaky breath as he pulls me against him, my face into the black Sith robes, my thighs against his, his arms pinioning me tight against his hips. I bit my lip, my eyes watering, knowing there was no use in crying out. He'd probably like it more, actually. There was an old joke about Sith appetites: The more the lover hates it, the more the Sith likes it. 

His hand came down hard against my ass, and I jerked further against him by reflex. His other hand was at my throat, undoing the buttons of my uniform with gentle precision. It was the most genteel rape I'd ever heard of, some terrified, hysterical part of my brain thought. 

"Oh, no." It took me a moment to realize he was speaking to me; another minute to recall the Sith ability to read thoughts. "It won't be. You'll find it very, very, rough." 

He spins me, flinging me down against the desk. With a knee, he spreads my legs wide apart. I hear a rustle, and then a dreaded thrum. A lightsaber. I bite down on my lip hard, a tear rolling onto the desk, as I feel heat pass against my knee. He holds the saber a bare inch from me, running it slowly up the interior of my thigh, closer and closer to the joining of my legs. Not close enough to burn, just close enough to hurt. There's a quick thrum, a feeling of intense flame, and then nothing but the smell of singed fabric. He's cut the center of my loose uniform trousers apart. I hear him holstering his lightsaber with one hand while the other twists one of my arms up against the small of my back. As if I could fight him. Still, I squirm anyways when I feel him come up behind me, hard as an iron rod. 

"Ah-ah-ah," he warns, "behave for me." I can feel him on the flesh just outside my entrance, and I'm waiting, muscles tensed, but he doesn't enter me. I look over my shoulder to see him shifting onto his knees. He looks me directly in the eyes, one hand pushing his long hair back, the other one resting possessively on my ass. I gasp in shock as I feel his tounge against me, exploring the parts of me that this bent-over-desk posture have made all to available. He's long and languorous, and I can feel the muscles of my lower body clenching by instinct. He brings his hand down on my ass, hard, and I cry out, "Ah!" He laughs again, damn him. 

He stands, leaving me dripping. A hand in the back of my hair brings me to my feet, my chin tipped back because of the sudden pressure. It only takes him one hand to pull off my half-unbuttoned uniform top. He brings that hand up to my lips, forcing his fingers in, making me look at him while I choke on the taste of leather and the pressure on my tounge. He forces me to my knees, fingers still in my mouth. He jerks his head at me, and I obey, taking the tips of his glove between my teeth and pulling it off. Ren slaps me across the face with it and then casts it aside. 

"You know what I want." I do, and I give it to him, opening my mouth obligingly and licking up from the base of his shaft to the top. He sighs, letting his head fall back as I take him into my mouth. I wrap my lips around the middle and my hand about the base, feeling the hint of strong veins beneath my hand. Working up spit, I start to move, the taste of precum in my mouth as I use my other hand to push his robes further aside. "Fuck." He says almost angrily, letting a hand float down to touch my head. "Keep going." There's spit dripping from my lips and tears from my eyes, but I follow his command, feeling the effects as he grows in my mouth. I can hear his breathing, soft and quick. Maybe I can make him finish now, and then go. "No," he gasps, fisting a hand in my hair to stop me, "I don't think so." Damn those mind reading powers. 

He drags me to my feet and spins me so that I'm facing outwards, towards the vast advance of space. With one muscular arm, he shoves me with bruising force into the thick glass. I cry out as my cheek connects with the cold surface. "I'll need to hear more of that," he says, voice raspy as he positions himself behind me. My chest is pushed flat into the glass, the chill very noticeable on my nipples, which are begging to be touched. He places one strong hand around my hip bone, pulling my hips away from the window so that he can access me. He leans against me, breath hot and loud against my neck, his long hair swinging forward and brushing my cheek. He moves his hand from my hip around to my stomach, and I hear him place the other arm above my head, against the glass. 

When he enters me, it's sudden and rough, just like he promised. I can't help but make a sound as he shoves the first part of his considerable length into me. I cry out again as he moves his hips back, leaving me suddenly empty. "That's more like it, baby," he says, voice husky. "I want to hear you moan." His hand on my stomach dips downwards, pressing me backwards onto him at the same time his fingers brush between my legs. Instinct makes me gasp, makes my hips rise, back into him as he strokes me. "Fuck, yeah." He says slowly, leaning against me and pressing me more against the cold glass window. My hips buck, opening up to him further, as he shifts his hips forward, entering me further and making me gasp from the strange, tight pain. "Fuck," I whimper. He exhales, long and slow, and starts to move, rocking back and forth and pushing deeper with every thrust. Every time he pushes more into me, I press against the glass, and I can't help but moan louder. 

"Fuck, yeah, come on," he's whispering in my ear, one hand still skillfully moving between my legs. I moan, pushing my face and hands against the glass to better push back onto him. He groans, wordless, and speeds up. He's breathing heavier, and so am I, out breath coming in pants as sweat pools beads on our legs and the sound of his hips against my ass grows louder. He won't stop stroking me, and there's a tension in the muscles an inch beneath his hand, a biological response that I can't deny. He's moving in me faster and faster, his arm wrapped tight around my torso. I can barely see the stars outside for my breath fogging up the glass. 

His hands are all over me, real and force-based, pushing my hair back, stroking me, circling my nipples, as he continues to relentlessly pound me from behind, spurred on by my increasingly loud sounds. "Oh, fuck, yes," he breathes, leaning against me to drive even deeper inside of me. "Ohhhh..." comes my response. "Fuck, baby," he gasps, penetratingly me hard and fast, "I want to hear you scream." I couldn't stop my orgasm if I tried. I scream, just like he wanted, my legs shaking, my eyes closing, my muscles tensing tight around him as I plunge over the edge, Kylo Ren following right behind me, moaning desperately in my ear, his forearm on the glass above me trembling, and his dick pumping inside of me as it releases into me, all against the window's huge background of stars. I can't tell whether my eyes are open or closed, but either way I'm seeing nebulae.

I don't know how to spell tounge please kill me.

The second sex scene I ever write, and this is what I pick???? And I still haven't told my therapist about the first one, which was wayyyy more non-con????? Girl help what am i doing

If you're reading this I love u goodnight <3


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